


The Mayflower

by elyndis



Category: Parks and Recreation
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-02
Updated: 2011-06-02
Packaged: 2017-11-06 00:37:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/412787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elyndis/pseuds/elyndis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ben discovers that there are other things in Leslie’s bedroom besides political biographies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Mayflower

Ben was skimming the titles on the bookshelf in Leslie’s bedroom, clad in boxers and a harvest festival t-shirt, waiting for her to get ready for bed. She always took her time, brushing her teeth, flossing twice, combing out her curls meticulously before she surrendered herself to sleep. At first Ben thought it was simply in an effort to impress him – never mind that he found her gorgeous regardless – but he’d since figured out that it was just Leslie applying the same care to grooming and personal hygiene as she does to all other aspects of her life. He idly flipped through a few of the political biographies on her shelf (she had an impressive collection), but it was hard to concentrate on details of Sandra Day O'Connor’s childhood when his mind kept drifting off to the feel of her lips on his.

“Be-en,” Leslie calls from the bathroom, breaking him out of his reverie, “can you get me another tube of toothpaste? I think I used up this one. “

“Uh, sure, where?”

“There should be a travel-sized tube in one of my bedside drawers.”

Ben rummages through the drawers. They’re filled with all sorts of knick-knacks: old newspaper clippings, a picture of Ramsett Park, a blurb from a magazine profile of her mother, hastily scribbled notes about groceries, hundreds of dollars worth of receipts from JJ’s. But no toothpaste. He’s about to give up when an object tucked in the corner catches the light. 

“Leslie? What’s this?”

“What?” Leslie sticks her head out of the bathroom, toothbrush poking out the side of her mouth. Ben’s standing in the middle of her bedroom, holding something long and cylindrical and bright pink, his face expressionless except for a slight quirk of the lips.

“That’s- uh, a weight. That I lift sometimes. To exercise.”

“Oh. Why does it” – Ben flips a switch – “do that?”

“Uh, it…increases muscle tone. By building resistance.”

Ben raises an eyebrow.

“Just kidding, that’s not for exercise.” Leslie shifts her weight from foot to foot as she rattles off a list of potential uses. It’s a flashlight. It’s a cigar lighter. It’s an old family heirloom. It’s a Taser. It’s a round tongue depressor. It’s a bomb, and she’s secretly a Russian spy. 

By this point Ben is suppressing a smile. 

“Leslie, I know what a vibrator is.”

“Oh.” A mixture of embarrassment and relief washes over her features. "Breasties before testes,” she says, shrugging.

“Uh, what?”

“Ovaries before brovaries. Uteruses before duderuses. The point is, a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do. I like the Mayflower.”

“The – you named your vibrator the Mayflower?” 

“Well, it takes me places.” 

Leslie doesn’t find it particularly funny, but Ben is doubled over, his shoulders shaking. He tries to school his features into some sort of neutral expression but fails miserably.

“So, are you going to show me what it does?” Ben asks, tone playful.

“No way. Not after your little giggling fit.” Leslie scoffs and reaches for her vibrator, but Ben holds it just out of reach.

“Then you don’t get it back,” he says.

“Fine, we’ll do it your way.” There is a pause, and then with a gleam in her eye Leslie launches herself at Ben, toppling him over and landing both of them on the bed. Somehow Ben manages to wiggle out of her grasp, and he runs out of the room, Leslie hot on his heels. Ben has become relatively good at navigating the ever-changing labyrinth of clutter that defines Leslie’s house, but as he makes a sharp left from the hallway into the living room he doesn’t quite see the magazine holder that she’s acquired since the last time he was over, and he goes sprawling. Leslie snatches her vibrator from his grip, cackling madly, but when Ben doesn’t make any effort to fight her for it she is instantly concerned. 

“Ben? You okay, Ben? Ben?”

“I – I think I stubbed a toe.” And his big toe is looking a little bruised. 

Leslie helps him to the sofa, and she’s apologizing profusely. Ben assures her it’s fine, a stubbed toe will heal in no time. She doesn’t look convinced. He tries another tactic.

“Hey, does that mean you’re going to show me? You know, to make me feel better?”

Leslie swats at his uninjured leg. 

“You wish. This whole thing was your fault, you know. If you’d just given me the Mayflower back when I asked…”

Ben has to kiss her to get her to stop her talking. And as she slicks her tongue between his lips, Leslie thinks that maybe it wasn’t so bad. There was a lot they could do that didn’t involve his big toe, after all.


End file.
